Welcome (a rough translation into English of 'Bienvenida' by Mario Benedetti)

It occurs to me that you'll arrive differently
not exactly cuter
nor stronger, more docile
or more cautious,
it's just that you'll arrive differently.

As if this time without seeing me
would've surprised you as well,
maybe because you know
how much I think of you and number you,
after all nostalgia exists.

Even though we don't cry
at the ghostly platforms
or over the pillows full of candor,
nor under the matt sky,
I'm nostalgic,
you're nostalgic,
and how it fucks me up that he's nostalgic.

Your face is avant-garde,
maybe it arrives first
because I paint it on the walls
with invisible and secure traces.
Don't forget that your face
looks at me as a peasant,
smiles, throws a fit, and sings like a peasant
and that gives you an inextinguishable light.

Now I have no doubts,
you'll arrive differently and with signs,
with news, with depth, with frankness

I know I'll love you without questions
I know you'll love me without answers.

Penélope

I wake up at dawn, dreaming I don't know what.
I have breakfast with rain and I remember you over coffee.
I dreamt your figure far away,
waiting in the suburbs of oblivion
and I saw me setting sail on golden ships
that I had filled with presents for you
and then I saw that because of jealousy the sea of my torments,
swallowed the ship and that crazy one who was me.
And everything shipwrecked.

How far you are, how far I am.
The debris of my life slide with the rain
forgetting Penelope.

I abandon my self to the waves, they spit me out of the sea.
Years have gone by, no one knows where you are.
The deserted streets at night
and your face is drawn in my memory.
The trees hug themselves
like skeleton woods in the rain
my dream shipwrecked.

How far you are, how far I am.
It rains mint tears and I get drunk with sorrow
forgetting Penelope.
How far you are, how far I am.
The debris of my life slide with the rain.
forgetting Penelope.
I refuge in taverns and become taciturn
Forgetting Penelope.
How far you are, how far I am
what is left of my life I spend it in the hovels
remembering Penelope.

Me despierto en el alba soñando no sé qué
desayuno con lluvia y te recuerdo en el café.

Soñé tu figura lejos, esperando en los suburbios del olvido (Penélope)
y me vi solo, zarpando en barcos de oro que llené con regalos para tí
y luego vi que por celos el mar de mis tormentos. Se tragaba el barco,
el tesoro y aquel loco que era yo y todo naufragó.

Que lejos tú, que lejos yo,
los escombros de mi vida se deslizan con la lluvia
recordando a Penélope.

Me abandono a las olas, me escupen del mar.
han pasado los años, nadie sabe en dónde estas.
Las calles desiertas por las noches
y tu cara se dibuja en mi memoria
los árboles, se abrazan, como bosques de esqueletos
en la lluvia, y mi sueño naufragó.

Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo.
Llueven lagrimas de menta y me emborracho de amargura
olvidando a Penelópe.
Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo.
Los escombros de mi vida se deslizan por la lluvia
olvidando a Penelópe.
Me refugio en las tabernas y me vuelvo taciturno
olvidando a Penelópe.
Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo
lo que queda de mi vida lo malgasto en los tugurios
recordando a Penelópe.